


always trying to get you off

by lye_kisses



Series: lawyer au [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Dom!Patrick, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Porn, Prequel, Sub!Pete, Unhealthy Relationships, lawyer AU, well actually my better call saul au, without a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lye_kisses/pseuds/lye_kisses
Summary: “Would ya look at you,” Pete says as he steps in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “All set up in your very own office. This might be even nicer than my dad’s...”It’s really not. Patrick’s office is modest at best, a small, sparsely decorated gray square of a room with a standard window that has a scenic view of the dumpsters out back... Pete has always been a sweet talker though, especially when it comes to Patrick. Patrick has never been sure if he loves or hates that about him.-A prequel to like a lawyer, if prequels can be just porn.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Series: lawyer au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552177
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	always trying to get you off

**Author's Note:**

> Me, posting a prequel to something I wrote over a year ago that probably nobody remembers or cares about? Honestly very unlikely because i'm the worst at finishing things! But here I am babie!  
> I was going to write an actual factual prequel to like a lawyer, that like expands the universe and has a whole plot and everything, (still haven't ruled it out) but instead you get this, which is porn.  
> Everything I know about being a lawyer I learned from watching Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad so please do not fact check this or come to me for legal counsel!!! Also if you're worried you might not understand this because you haven't seen those shows, or because you haven't read my og fic, don't be. It's mostly just porn. I suggest you DO read like a lawyer tho, because I wrote it and I'm proud of it.  
> Shouts to Hanna for making me rediscover this in my google docs, and to Rhi for eternally being out here, and to Pete Wentz for being my favorite human (sorry about the fanfics i still love u!!!).

“Knock knock,” Pete says, leaning up against the door frame. “Your favorite Wentz is here for his Thursday afternoon appointment.”

“Barely my favorite,” Patrick says with a warm smile, putting one of his pristine new document folders back into its drawer in his desk. He doesn’t bother to invite Pete inside; Pete will take that initiative. 

“Would ya look at you,” Pete says as he steps in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “All set up in your very own office. This might be even nicer than my dad’s...”

It’s really not. Patrick’s office is modest at best, a small, sparsely decorated gray square of a room with a standard window that has a scenic view of the dumpsters out back. It’s certainly a step up from filing paperwork in the basement, but it’s nothing special. Pete has always been a sweet talker though, especially when it comes to Patrick. Patrick has never been sure if he loves or hates that about him. 

“You’re a real big shot now,” Pete continues, plopping himself down into one of the cheap Ikea chairs on the opposite side of Patrick’s desk. He wiggles around like he’s trying to get comfortable, (it’s not going to happen, Patrick has tested those chairs) then kicks his feet up, nearly knocking over Patrick’s favorite mug. He can always count on Pete to make himself right at home in the most obnoxious way possible. 

“Please get your ugly shoes off my desk,” Patrick glares, moving a pile of freshly printed papers out of the way of Pete’s beat up rainbow Nikes. 

Pete pouts, then bends his knees and lets his feet fall to the floor with a loud clap. It makes Patrick smile- Pete is a good listener when he wants to be. 

“So,” Pete says with a devilish smirk. “You ready to christen this place?” 

Patrick can’t pretend like he invited Pete here for any other reason. Doesn’t every man dream of sex at the office? “ Been ready since I called you this morning, honestly.” 

Pete beams. Patrick has never seen a lecherous grin look more like sunshine. “So have I.” 

“Better get to it then. I don’t have all day...” Actually, Patrick would clear his whole calendar for Pete, but Pete’s ego doesn’t need to know that. 

“Oh Mr. Stump,” Pete says in an accent that might be a terrible attempt at mimicking a southern belle, hand dramatically pressed to his forehead. “I simply have no money to cover your fees. However will I pay for your excellent lawyering prowess?” He widens his eyes, flutters his eyelashes in a parody of a parody of innocence. 

Patrick has to laugh. “Seriously? You’re doing this?” 

“Come on,” Pete whines, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m trying to spice things up for us.”   
Considering that a week and a half ago he tied Pete to the headboard and spanked him until he cried, Patrick would say their sex life is sufficiently spiced.

“Okay, okay, fine. How  _ are _ you gonna pay for my services?” 

“I happen to have a very particular set of skills, skills that I have acquired over a very long career...”

“Alright, I think I get it,” He cuts Pete off before he can recite the entire monologue. Patrick is all for movie quotes, truly, but not when they get in the way of getting his dick wet. He’s pretty sure Pete’s number one skill is frustration. “Come on and show me what you got.” 

“Mr. Stump, it would be my pleasure.”

Pete slinks to the floor, crawls around to the other side of the desk like he’s auditioning for Dirty Dancing. It’s more ridiculous than sexy, but that’s Pete for you. Patrick is already half hard by the time Pete makes it to his rolling chair, even with all the unnecessary theatrics. 

Pete rises up on his knees so he’s eye level with Patrick’s dick, pupils blown wide like he’s gazing at a feast. He reaches out to grab at the bulge in Patrick’s slacks with something akin to reverence. Nobody loves sucking cock like Pete Wentz does. 

Pete makes a pleased little sound as he extends his fingers and unbuckles Patrick’s belt, shimmying his pants and boxers down his legs to his ankles.

Pete presses little kisses to his leg, first to his calf, then to his knee, then up the inside of his thigh. Patrick gasps when Pete nips at his thigh, then sinks his teeth in harder.

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be making payments, you sure are being a tease,” Patrick growls, threading his fingers into Pete’s hair and holding tightly at the roots. 

“Sorry,” Pete giggles, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Put it on my tab.” 

“Put your mouth on my dick, maybe,” Patrick mutters, and Pete laughs, tipping his head back as much as he can with Patrick gripping his hair before finally, blessedly, wrapping his lips around the head of Patrick’s cock.

Patrick keeps his grip on Pete’s hair and not so gently suggests that he slide his mouth down...down...until his throat contracts around Patrick’s cock. When they first started sleeping together, Pete informed him that he didn’t have a gag reflex. Patrick likes reminding him that nothing good comes from being a liar. Or at least he tries to. Pete always seems to take every punishment in stride. 

“Babe,” Pete coughs, once Patrick’s let up on the choking. “You know I’m into that, but you’re not letting me work my magic.” He gives Patrick his patented pouty puppy eyes that Patrick is honestly ashamed he still falls for every time. 

“Fine,” Patrick says,relinquishing his grip and bringing his hands up to rest behind his neck. “Do your thing.”

Patrick has to admit, Pete really is a master at what he eloquently refers to as “sloppy top”, aka the wettest, messiest head he’s ever received. He always goes all out, like he’s starving for it, hot, wet, mouth and spit slick hand working him in perfect rhythm. All Patrick has to do is sit back and enjoy the show. 

The one and only downside is that Pete is almost  _ too _ good. “Fuck,” Patrick reaches down to tug on his hair again, this time to pull him off. “You gotta stop.”

“It was bad?” Pete says, with an air of weird, possibly genuine sadness.

“What?” Patrick asks, shaking his head. He’s a little distracted by how disgusting and hot the trail of spit running down Pete’s chin is. “No. I want to fuck you.”

“Oh,” Pete says, snapping back to sex kitten in a matter of seconds. “Oh Patrick, you are in for a  _ treat _ .” 

Patrick kind of hopes the treat is lube. He can work with spit, but it’s not exactly ideal.

Pete uses Patrick’s thighs to push himself up off the ground, then turns around to brace himself against the desk.

“Not gonna strip for me?” Patrick says, slipping a hand up Pete’s shirt to stroke at his side.

“I think you should do the honors,” Pete smirks, shaking his hips. Patrick rolls his eyes and pulls down Pete’s jeans that definitely came from the Junior Miss section of JCPenny. He isn’t wearing any underwear. Patrick doesn’t understand what he gets out of that, because denim on dick is not exactly comfortable, but it’s not out of the ordinary for Pete. If this is the treat, Patrick is going to be disappointed, but he supposes either way Pete is getting his ass reamed. 

Then Pete shifts forward ever so slightly, and Patrick catches a glimpse of something nestled between his cheeks.  _ Holy shit _ . 

“Fuck, is that... you’ve had this in the whole time?” Patrick breathes, running his fingers over the smooth piece of glass. 

“No, I used my third arm to shove it in there while I was sucking you-”

Patrick brings his other hand down onto Pete’s ass with a loud smack. Never fails to shut him up when he starts talking back. 

“So goddamn hot,” Patrick says, gently rubbing over Pete’s newly pinked up skin before bringing his thumbs to rest right on the rim of the plug. 

Pete groans and arches back, vying for more pressure. “You can fuck me now.”

“ _ Can _ I?” Patrick pulls out the plug at what he knows is a tortuously slow pace, then pushes it back in just before it’s completely breached his hole. Pete isn’t the only one who knows how to tease.

“ _ Patrick _ ,” Pete whimpers and squirms again, and Patrick stands up so he can better press Pete down onto the desk. “Patrick,  _ please _ .” It’s so funny how Pete only remembers his manners when there’s the possibility of getting a dick in his ass. 

“I don’t know,” Patrick says, playing with the plug again. It’s pretty, a subtle light blue color that Pete must have bought with Patrick’s tastes in mind. He appreciates that he didn’t go for something more gaudy. “You know how thin these walls are. I don’t have to worry about you with my cock in your mouth but...” he trails off, trusts Pete to fill in the rest. “Maybe if I gag you?” he fiddles with the tie around his neck, like he’s really considering it. Pete looks back at him with wide, eager eyes. He’d probably let Patrick do anything to him right now. 

“Nah,” Patrick says, dropping the idea. “Wouldn’t want to waste a nice tie on a slut.” 

Pete looks like he might cry from frustration. Patrick decides to take pity on him. “You think you can keep quiet all on your own?” 

Pete nods fervently, teeth sunk into his bottom lip to ensure his mouth stays shut. He’s really trying. 

“Better not let me down,” Patrick says, pulling the plug all the way out and leaving it on the desk next to them. Gross, but that’s why Lysol was invented. 

Patrick takes a second to line himself up with Pete’s hole, then carefully pushes in. Pete is so fucking tight, even after being stretched out by the decently sized plug. It takes more willpower than Patrick would like to admit not to come on the spot.    
“You okay?” Patrick asks, once he’s bottomed out. “You can tell me if you’re not okay.” He knows he’s breaking the mood of their little game, but he never wants Pete to feel like he has to suffer in silence for the sake of their kinky sex thing. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Pete begs, like it’s the only word he knows. That’s all the confirmation Patrick needs to thrust in again, this time harder than the first. It earns him a hitch in Pete’s breath, and no other sounds. Patrick feels something akin to pride bubble in his chest. 

He works up a quick, unrelenting rhythm, prays that the walls aren’t actually so thin that someone walking by might recognize the telltale slap of skin pounding against skin. Pete might get off on the idea of someone catching them like this (especially, for some fucked up reason, one of his dad’s law partners), but Patrick would rather keep his brand new promotion for more than a week. 

While his brain is on the subject of Pete getting off- Patrick grips Pete’s hips more firmly and ever so slightly changes the angle of his thrusts. He’s rewarded by the way Pete clenches even tighter around him, and with a breathy little moan that Patrick pretends like he doesn’t hear. He can’t expect perfection from Pete when he knows he’s not fighting fair. 

“You’re gonna come on my cock or not at all,” Patrick growls. “So you’d better come before I do.” 

Pete responds with another sharp hitch in his breathing, and god, Patrick thinks it’s so hot that he’s trying so hard.

“So fucking good for me,” Patrick says, and Pete comes. 

“Fuck,” Patrick moans, long and drawn out, hips stuttering at the way Pete feels around him. It doesn’t take him more than a few hard, frantic thrusts before he’s coming too, deep inside of Pete. 

Patrick pulls out carefully, shakily sitting back down in his chair. Pete doesn’t move, stays stretched out over Patrick’s desk looking utterly wrecked and utterly beautiful. Patrick should probably offer him a tissue or something for the sticky mess between his legs, but all he really wants to do right now is hold him. 

“Come here,” Patrick says, arms open wide, and Pete tumbles into them, nearly tripping over his pants that are still at his ankles, caught on his chunky sneakers. The chair clearly isn’t built to hold two average (or, okay  _ slightly smaller than average _ ) sized men, but they make it work as best as possible, limbs tangled together. Pete tucks his face into the crook of Patrick’s neck, and Patrick holds him there, pretends like he doesn’t need this part just as much as Pete does.

“Hey,” Patrick murmurs, once Pete’s breathing has evened out to a slow and steady pace. “You okay?”

Pete lifts his head a little to nod, looking up at Patrick with glimmering eyes. “Thanks.” 

Patrick isn’t quite sure why he’s being thanked, but Pete looks so earnest it makes his chest hurt. He can’t resist closing the short distance between their mouths with a tender kiss. 

Pete kisses back, soft and sweet at first, but when he slips his tongue between Patrick’s lips Patrick has to pull away, if only to remind himself that it would be a bad idea to keep Pete naked in his office for the rest of the day. “Alright dick breath,” Patrick says with a teasing smile. “That’s enough.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to complain about dick breath when it was  _ your _ dick in my mouth,” Pete giggles, then licks a sloppy, affectionate stripe across Patrick’s cheek. 

“You’re so fucking weird,” Patrick says, rolling his eyes as Pete climbs out of his lap and wiggles his way back into his jeans.

“And yet you still keep me around.” He’s smirking, but there’s something fragile about the way he’s holding himself. Patrick wants to keep him around forever. 

“Hey, you want to come over after I’m done here? We can get sushi delivered from that place on the corner. I’ll even help proofread that essay you were telling me about last weekend.” Pete’s been working on getting his JD through correspondence, because he didn’t want the Wentz name to be the only reason he got accepted to law school. Patrick thinks he could’ve gotten in on his own accord, zero nepotism required. Pete is one of the smartest, most clever people he’s ever met. 

Pete hums, an avoidant little tone. “It’d have to be late. I’ve got a meeting.”

The fluttering affection in Patrick’s stomach turns to rage. Pete is one of the smartest, most clever people he’s ever met, and he wastes his potential on fucking  _ schemes _ with his petty criminal friends. He always refers to them as “meetings” when he’s around Patrick, because Patrick wanted some semblance of plausible deniability, but he still knows the kind of shit Pete gets up to. It’s never good. 

“I’m not bailing you out of jail again,” Patrick snaps. He won’t. He said that the last time too. 

Pete laughs, dark and brittle. “I guess I really do have daddy issues. You sound just like him.”

“I’m fucking tired, Pete. I don’t get why you do this...”

“There you go, check another one off the list, he would be so proud of you,”

“You know, I always tell him how wrong he is about you. But maybe I am.”

Pete looks devastated. “Fuck you.” he spits viciously, then moves to leave. 

“Come over later,” Patrick says quietly, this time less of a question. He just wants to make sure Pete turns up okay after he’s done with his bullshit. 

Pete’s eyes are wet. He uses the heel of his palm that’s not gripping the doorknob to wipe them. “Fuck you,” Pete says again, before he walks out, slamming the door behind him with so much force that it knocks a shoddily hung corporate art print of a lake painting off the wall. 

Patrick sighs, rests his face in his hands, and wills himself not to care. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! xoxo lye_kisses


End file.
